The Lark and the Rose
by eponnia
Summary: AU. What if Jean Valjean had never taken Cosette from the Thénardiers? What if the innkeepers had stayed in Montfermeil? Would Marius and Cosette still meet? Would Enjolras and Éponine ever encounter each other? What about Grantaire and Azelma? [M/C E/É R/A based on the 25th anniversary. DISCONTINUED.]
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not have any rights to **_**Les Misérables**_** in any way, shape, or form. **

**The title of TLatR (The Lark and the Rose) is a reference back to Victor Hugo's novel. Cosette is nicknamed the Lark by the inhabitants of Montfermeil; in Book III: **_**Marius**_**, Chapter 4 is titled **_**A Rose in Misery**_**, when Marius meets Éponine for the first time. There is also a drawing of Éponine by Pierre Jeanniot, called **_**A Rose in Misery**_**. **

**For TLatR, I picture Samantha Barks as Éponine, Ramin Karimloo as Enjolras, Katie Hall as Cosette, Hadley Fraser as Grantiare, and Emma Dukes as Azelma (currently touring as Bet in the UK tour of **_**Oliver!**_**). I'm trying to get my Raminjolras and Samponine fanfics out on this site before Christmas, because once the Les Mis movie comes out, the Les Mis 25 O2 concert cast will only a distant (but spectacular) memory. **

**For Grantaire's first name, I chose Guillaume, the French form of William, meaning "will, desire, helmet, protection." I chose this name because it seemed to fit very well in the time period. For Enjolras' first name, I chose Emile, which means "rival." I have also created a character named Fabrice Sauveterre, which means "craftsman" (Fabrice) and "safe haven" (Sauveterre). The meaning of his surname will become very ironic in a few chapters.**

**The cover image is of Samantha Barks as Nancy in the UK tour of **_**Oliver!**_** I figured that if she and her family were still in Montfermeil, they would have more money so she could dress in something other than rags. That being said, my version of Éponine in TLatR might become a bit more Nancy than any of my other fanfics, but since the characters are so similar (and Samantha played them both), I hope no one will have a problem with it. **

**The main pairings of this fanfic are Enjolras/Éponine, Marius/Cosette, and Grantaire/Azelma. I also have a surprise pairing in the first chapter, but it won't continue throughout the rest of the fanfic. **

**I hope you enjoy **_**The Lark and the Rose**_**. **

* * *

Cosette looked up, rag in hand, from her position on the floor and paused in her task of cleaning as she heard footsteps. She brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear as Éponine approached.

"Enough cleaning," the innkeeper's daughter said. "I need you to deliver a letter for me." Cosette stood and took the letter from Éponine. The innkeeper's daughter's cold façade cracked as she whispered, "You'll find him on the corner."

"Yes, mademoiselle," Cosette said, curtsying. Éponine's eyes narrowed.

"Stop wasting time and deliver the letter!" she ordered, shoving Cosette towards the door. As Cosette left the inn, Éponine returned to the main of the inn.

Azelma approached Éponine, tray in hand. "Was that the letter to-" she began in a whisper, and was answered by a curt nod from Éponine. The older of the two sisters turned as her father called out her name, her face betraying none of the previous conversation.

"Éponine!" Thénardier said loudly, lifting a glass of wine to his eldest daughter. "Have a drink!" She accepted the wine, knowing better than to refuse her father, and she scanned the occupants of the table. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the old shoemaker who had pursued her for years; Fabrice Sauveterre was nearly fifty years older than she was, and definitely old enough to be her grandfather.

"What are you celebrating?" she warily asked her drunk father. When he drank this much wine, Thénardier was always celebrating something. And it usually was never good.

"Your upcoming marriage!" Thénardier said loudly, sloshing wine over the edge of his cup as he raised it in a mock toast. "You're going to be Fabrice's wife!"

Silence immediately fell over the inn as Éponine stood in shock.

* * *

A soldier with a strong build and messy dark hair leaning against a lamppost opened a letter. His blue eyes scanned the page and the neatly written words.

_My dear Théodule,_

_I fear our relationship cannot last forever. My father has been talking to Fabrice, and I think I am going to be forced to marry him soon. Can you imagine me, a shoemaker's wife?_

He scoffed lightly at that in agreement, and continued reading.

_As ridiculous as it sounds, I fear it might become true. No matter what happens, I love you, Théodule, even if we are forced apart._

_Éponine_

Théodule Gillenormand folded the letter. He himself had news for Éponine – his regiment was leaving Montfermeil. The lieutenant had not loved the pretty innkeeper's daughter, but she was welcome distraction from the military. He had made her believe that he loved her, and he was relieved that she would never know he was using her. He wrote a response on the back of the letter and began making his way down the street to the inn.

* * *

Éponine did not cry, though she had every right to do so.

She sat on the rickety bed, gazing unseeing out the window in the room she shared with Azelma, and tried to picture herself as a shoemaker's wife, being the mother to Fabrice's children. The image was so ridiculous she would have laughed if not for the lump in her throat. Fabrice was sixty-seven; she was seventeen. He had already been married three times, and all of his children were older than she was.

A knock sounded on the door. "It's me, Azelma," came the voice on the other side of the door.

"Come in," Éponine said, and the door opened.

Azelma came into the room. She was a year younger than Éponine, and, as first glance, the two sisters did not resemble each other. Azelma's blonde curls contrasted with Éponine's dark hair, and the latter was taller than her sister. Éponine was slender but full-bodied, wearing dresses with necklines that were slightly lower than was considered decent, though not overly so, while Azelma was pale, thin, and more modest. The younger was pretty, but did not have the elder's looks. Upon closer inspection, they shared brown eyes, willing smiles, and the same straight nose, a characteristic common in Thénardiers.

"Cosette's bringing tea," Azelma said softly, but Éponine did not respond. The blonde sixteen-year-old sat next to her older sister on the bed. "I'm sorry, Éponine-"

"Why should you be?" Éponine cut in bitterly. "Father will be marrying you off next. Worry about yourself, not me. I knew he would make me marry Fabrice anyway."

"At least you have Théodule," Azelma commented. Before Éponine could reply, Cosette came into the room, holding a tray of tea. She placed it carefully on a small, worn desk and went to the door, but Azelma said, "You can stay, Cosette."

"Are you sure?" Cosette asked. At Azelma's nod, the servant girl sat on the edge of the bed with the Thénardier sisters.

There was a moment of silence, and then Éponine asked Cosette, "Did you deliver the letter?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Enough with the 'mademoiselle,'" Azelma said firmly. "Not when it's just the three of us. We're friends, remember?"

Cosette, servant of the Thénardier family, had grown up alongside the innkeeper's daughters. Cosette's mother had left her three-year-old daughter in the hands of Madame Thénardier, promising to pay. But when Cosette and Éponine were eight, the money stopped coming in. The Thénardiers never received word from Fantine again, and they assumed she was dead. They assumed correctly, but they would never know that the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer had come too late to the dying Fantine's side and had discovered her body. He had known that Fantine had a child, but, having no information of Cosette's whereabouts, was unable to save her from the Thénardiers.

Cosette, never knowing that her true name was Euphrasie - the name Cosette was a nickname from her mother - stayed at the inn, working for the family for nine years after her mother's death. Hard work had not taken away her beauty, though undoubtedly she would have rivaled angels had she lived a privileged life. Her golden hair was long and thick, her skin pale, and her blue eyes kind. She had a slender figure that attracted some attention, but most of the men pursued Éponine, and the servant girl was generally left alone.

The connection that Cosette had with the innkeeper's daughters was when both Éponine and Cosette were thirteen and Azelma was twelve. Up until then, Cosette primarily cleaned the inn, ran errands, and did whatever task the Thénardiers deemed unsuitable in their "lofty" station. Then Azelma asked her parents if she could have a ladies' maid, like noblewomen in book she read. Becoming Éponine and Azelma's personal maid was added to Cosette's long list of chores, but is was, at the very least, a respite from scrubbing pots and sweeping floors. Surprisingly, the three young women eventually became friends.

From the stairwell, they heard a person ascending the rickety steps, and a boy burst into the room. "Here's a letter for you, 'Ponine," Gavroche said, holding the folded paper to his eldest sister.

"Who is it from?" Éponine asked even as she unfolded the letter.

"A soldier on the corner," Gavroche said with a shrug. The twelve-year-old left as Éponine read the words.

"It's from Théodule," she said. "His regiment is leaving, and he wants me to meet him tonight before he leaves."

"Are you going to meet him?" Azelma asked. Éponine hesitated, and her sister pressed on. "Do you want to look back in years to come and regret not going to meet him? Or do you want ot carry the memory of Théodule while shackled to Fabrice?"

"Azelma!" Cosette exclaimed, but the younger Thénardier shrugged.

"It's your life, 'Ponine," she said. "You choose if you want to do something with it."

Éponine did not reply, and looked out the window at the dark night for a moment. Tossing the letter into the fireplace, she hastily began packing.

"What are you-" Azelma said.

"I'm leaving," Éponine said. "I'll run away with Théodule."

"'Ponine, have you gone mad?" Azelma cried. "You can't just run off-" Cosette suddenly began coughing violently, and Azelma and Éponine turned to see Madame Thénardier standing in the doorway.

"Run off where?" Madame Thénardier asked, clearly suspicious.

"To see a friend," Cosette lied quickly.

"Antoinette," Éponine said, as if that had been her intent all along. "She just had her child yesterday, and I wanted to go see it."

"Since when were you interested in infants?" Madame Thénardier said, narrowing her eyes.

"Since I was told I'm getting married," Éponine replied, glaring at her mother.

"At this time of night?"

"I'm going to need to know about raising children."

"Wait until tomorrow. You're mad, girl. I always said you were, and here's proof." Madame Thénardier turned to Cosette. "Get downstairs before I tan you hide!" Cosette took the untouched tray of cold tea and hurried down the stairs. The innkeeper's wife looked at her daughters. "I want to see you serving drinks downstairs, or you'll regret it, I promise you!" She slammed the door behind her.

"I'll regret it if I don't go," Éponine retorted, glaring at the door. She stood and went to the window. Handing the bag to Azelma, she said, "Throw it to me when I make it down."

"Throw it to you when you…" Azelma repeated in disbelief. "You're not going to climb down the vine, are you?" Éponine did not reply, but opened the window. "'Ponine…"

"You're the one who told me to do something with my life." Éponine proceeded to climb out the window and down the vine as Azelma watched, sure that her sister would fall and break her neck. Éponine jumped the last couple of feet to the yard below and looked back up. "Throw me my bag!" she whispered. Azelma tossed it to her, and Éponine said, "Cover for me!"

The two sisters looked at each other, knowing that this could be the last time they would ever see each other again. "I hope you're happy, now that you're choosing this," Azelma said.

"You, too," Éponine replied. She turned and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Éponine made her way through the dark street, searching for Théodule. When she saw him on the street ahead, she called out his name; when they met, he kissed her long and hard, leaving her breathless. When they broke apart, she stepped back. "Théodule, I have to tell you something," she said. "My father wants me to marry."

"And?" he said nonchalantly.

"I want to go with you," she said, irritated at his indifference.

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, my dear."

"Why?" Éponine demanded.

"I'm not the marrying type. If you want to get married, my cousin Marius is available-" He was cut off as Éponine slapped him.

"I was willing to give up _everything_ for you!" she cried. "I thought you loved me-"

"Not enough to _marry_ you," Théodule said. "But I don't believe my great-uncle Gillenormand would approve of our marriage."

"Who cares what your great-uncle thinks!" Éponine said furiously. He began to respond, but was interrupted as a group of soldiers approached.

"We've received orders to head out, lieutenant," one of the soldiers said.

"Well, Éponine," Théodule said, "it's a shame I never got to see you without that dress-"

"I thought you loved me!" Éponine cried, cutting him off as the soldiers laughed crudely.

"I never did." Théodule said, and left her alone.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Anyone catch the Wicked quote? The surprise pairing that only comes in for this chapter is (if you haven't guessed already) is Théodule/Éponine; ****Théodule is Marius' cousin in Victor Hugo's novel (also known as the Brick)**. By the way, is anyone else excited that Samantha Barks is Éponine in the Les Mis movie, or is it just me? 


	2. A Note To Readers

**AN AUTHOR'S NOTE TO MY READERS**

First off, to all of you who have read, reviewed, etc., I want to thank you. Your support of this story was humbling.

I was in a car accident recently. This means that updates of _The Lark and the Rose_ are not going to be as regular as I had hoped they would be. I have the next few chapters written, but it might be a while before I update again.

Thank you again to everyone who has shown support to TLatR. I hope to see you soon!

-Eponnia


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after a long absence! To make up for it, here's a long chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

* * *

Éponine told her mother she was ill the next morning.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Cosette brought her breakfast, but the tray went untouched. Then Madame Thénardier opened the door to her daughter's room. "Fabrice is here to see you."

"Tell him I'm dying," Éponine replied flatly.

"I don't care if you _are_ dying," Madame Thénardier said as she went to her daughter's chest of drawers. Pulling out a blue dress, she tossed it at Éponine, ordering, "Put this on. You're coming downstairs if I have to drag you by your hair!"

Ten minutes later, Éponine walked down the stairs of the inn, wearing the blue dress, the neckline lower than she would like when talking to her husband-to-be. It was tight-fitting and accented her figure, the hem rustling around her ankles. Her hair was arranged in a messy chignon, a faint hint of rouge on he cheeks.

She descended the stairs and approached the table where her father and Fabrice sat. She sat next to the latter, pointedly not looking at him. She could all but feel his eyes looking straight down the neckline of her dress. Éponine's dark eyes flashed as her father announced the wedding was to be a week's time, but she made no other indication that she had heard. She shifted away from Fabrice when he put a hand on her knee.

* * *

That evening, after being forced at the end of the day to walk with Fabrice, Éponine walked back to the inn as her soon-to-be husband followed. "Good night, my dear," he said for what seemed the thousandth time. Éponine inwardly groaned with frustration, but kept her face blank. Then he kissed her.

She stood frozen, refusing to respond. He pulled away, and she could not resist the urge to stop herself from wiping the back of her hand across her lips. Éponine stared at him. He was almost seventy, with nearly white hair, more wrinkles than skin, and a rotund figure. If he were anyone else, she would not have given him a passing glance, but as her future husband, all she could feel was loathing. Without a word of farewell, she went into the inn and left him alone.

* * *

Late that night, while Azelma slept, Éponine climbed out the window. She did not take anything with her, as opposed to the previous night when she planned to run away with Théodule. With only the moon to light her path, Éponine went to the river.

She stopped into the stone railing and gazed into the dark water. Her prospects as the ancient Fabrice's wife were not enough to make living desirable. She heard a coach come up the street, and gathered the resolve to jump. She tried to take the stop off the bridge, but could not bring herself to. _Don't be a coward, Éponine!_ she ordered herself, noticing for the first time that tears ran down her cheeks. She heard a shout from the coach, but ignored it; gritting her teeth, she prepared to throw herself off the bridge. _This life is not worth living…_

A pair of hands suddenly dragged her back, and she screamed as she fell back off the railing onto the bridge. She fought off the arms that held her and lunged for the railing, determined to jump.

"Are you mad? What do you think you're doing?" he said. She noticed that her 'savior' had two companions.

"Let go of me!" Éponine said defiantly, fighting his hold on her arms.

"Just listen for a minute, will you?" he said, shaking her a bit. "Marius, get a lantern," he said to one of his companions. When Marius returned, he held the lantern aloft, and Éponine could see her 'rescuers' clearly.

The one who had pulled her from the railing and now grasped her arms was handsome, she had to admit, even more so than Théodule. He had strong features, pale skin, and black hair that fell slightly in his dark eyes. She guessed he was a nobleman, and he wore a heavy coat against the cold night air. The one holding the lantern, Marius, was handsome as well, with pale skin, curly black hair, and brown eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, and she realized he was Théodule's cousin. The third man had brown hair, pale skin, day-old stubble, and brown eyes, holding a bottle in one hand. He was attractive, though not as much as his companions. All three were in their twenties, and were wealthy if the quality of their clothes were any indication; Éponine felt cheap next to them.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" said Marius.

Éponine gave a bitter laugh. "No," she said, and took a step towards the railing.

"I think you'll find, mam'selle," said the man holding the bottle, "that suicide won't be easy now you know people care about your life. I've tried suicide, and it doesn't work as well if someone stops you."

"Grantaire!" said the handsome man who had pulled her from the railing.

Grantaire held up a hand in mock defense. "Just trying to help the lady, Enjolras," he said.

As they talked, Éponine discovered that this Grantaire was right. She stopped before she even reached the railing and found that death did not seem as desirable as before. Éponine still did not want to return to her parents or Fabrice, but she was less inclined to die.

Turning to Marius, she asked, "Do you have a cousin named Théodule Gillenormand?"

"Yes," Marius replied. "Do you know him?"

Éponine laughed bitterly once more. "Yes, I did. And I hope I never see him again." Leave Marius to interpret her words in whatever way he wished, she turned as Enjolras put a hand on her arm.

"Forgive our manners, mademoiselle," he said. "I don't believe we introduced ourselves. I am Alexandre Enjolras," he said, "this is Marius Pontmercy, and Jérèmy Grantaire."

"Éponine Thénardier," she replied. Marius looked at her, recognition shining in his eyes.

"Are you related to Sergeant Thénardier?"

"If you are referring to my father, monsieur, he is no sergeant, though he pretends to be one."

"But he saved Colonel Pontmercy, my father's life…"

"I must warn you, my father has a habit of lying to elevate himself."

"Mademoiselle Thénardier-" Enjolras began.

"Call me Éponine."

"Éponine, he continued, and she found she liked the way he said her name. _Don't get sentimental, 'Ponine_, she reminded herself.

"Do you know of any inns nearby?" he continued.

"My father owns one a few streets down," she replied. "Look for a two story building with a sign that say _The Sergeant At Waterloo_." She began to leave, but Marius called out to her.

"Would you care to ride in our coach?" he asked. Éponine strongly suspected they didn't want her left alone right after she had nearly committed suicide. She almost turned down their offer, but hesitated.

"I'd be delighted," she said, but stopped herself. _Now you're sounding like a noblewoman_, she chastised herself. _Don't forget your place, 'Ponine._

* * *

Éponine walked into the inn with Grantaire, Marius, and Enjolras, laughing at something Grantaire had said. When she saw her father sitting with Fabrice, the laughter died in her throat. "Thank you for your generosity, messieurs," she said, eyes serious as Thénardier stood.

As the three noblemen went to pay for rooms, Thénardier approached Éponine. She stood still, refusing to back down. Without a word, he suddenly struck her across the face as hard as he could. She took a step back, forcing herself to keep her balance as her vision swam. Éponine tasted blood as she straightened, glaring at her father. Thénardier went to welcome Enjolras, Grantaire, and Marius to the inn as if nothing had happened, but she saw the three noblemen looking at her in shock. She shook her head to indicate there was nothing they could do, and went to the kitchen to wash away the blood.

She emerged from the kitchen a moment later, a bruise forming on her cheek as she began to serve customers. She approached the table where Enjolras, Marius, and Grantaire sat and silently placed glasses and plates before them. Enjolras put a hand on her arm, and she looked into his dark eyes. Time seemed to stop, but the moment was broken when he spoke.

"Is there anything we can do?" he said in a low voice.

She shook her head. "That wasn't the first time my father's done that." At Enjolras' concerned look, she gave him a brief smile but said nothing else. She turned as Thénardier called her name, and, refusing to look back at the three noblemen, she approached the table where her father sat with Fabrice.

They were both very drunk, Éponine could see immediately. "'Ponine," her father slurred, "Fabrice here…" he said, gesturing to the old man beside him, "wants to know how many children you'll give him."

Éponine immediately stiffened. She knew Enjolras, Marius, and Grantaire were watching the conversation. Gritting her teeth, she said, "None."

"That's not your decision, my dear," Fabrice said, his words so addled by wine she barely understood him. "In a week, you'll be mine, and we'll have boys like me! Ten of 'em, one a year!" With strength Éponine did not know he possessed, Fabrice pulled her onto his lap so she faced away from him. He reached around her and laid a hand on her thigh, much higher than was usually appropriate.

Éponine wished Enjolras hadn't saved her from jumping off the bridge. Death seemed more inviting.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, the entrance of Enjolras, Marius and Grantaire. This is probably one of the last times we'll see Raminjolras and Hadley!Grantaire in the Les Mis fandom now that the movie's coming out. Please someone prove me wrong and write fanfics based on the 25th anniversary concert cast… **

**The dress that Éponine is wearing is based on the blue "Nancy" dress that Samantha Barks wore while performing in **_**I'd Do Anything**_**. **


End file.
